


Wrapped Around Your Finger

by al_holland



Category: Naruto
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Hokage Hatake Kakashi, Hurt/Comfort, Romance, Slow Burn, So Much Softness, Softness, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-24
Updated: 2021-02-24
Packaged: 2021-03-15 01:40:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29676441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/al_holland/pseuds/al_holland
Summary: She raised her eyes to him. They were empty and lost; it was a familiar look that he had seen many times before, in his own mirror. If he could come out on the other side of it, mostly intact, he had no doubt she would make it out.He stayed with her until she fell asleep, at which point he scooped her up and put her in her bed. She would be fine, he thought. He would make sure of it.-Kakashi takes it upon himself to ensure the well-being of his former teammate.
Relationships: Haruno Sakura/Hatake Kakashi, Hyuuga Hinata/Uzumaki Naruto
Comments: 41
Kudos: 158





	Wrapped Around Your Finger

**Author's Note:**

> sadness but mostly softness and healing. mentions of trauma and death. i listened to [this leon bridges song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ELPOCJvDz3w) and cried while i wrote. whoops
> 
> beta'd by the lovely oatmilk_honey :')

He hadn’t visited the cenotaph in quite some time. After the war, after everything that followed, after being named Rokudaime Hokage, he hadn’t needed to speak to the dead quite so frequently. He wasn’t sure what drew him to the memorial that evening, but after stepping out of his office, he had found himself following the familiar path to this monument, instead of to his home. Maybe it was a coincidence or maybe he had felt, on some level, that something was wrong. Maybe his dead friends had bid him to come. Whatever the reason, he was there now, and he was not alone.

He didn’t recognize her at first. From behind, she looked like just about anyone who would come here to mourn, with her slumped shoulders and quiet presence. Her hair wasn’t the familiar shock of pink, but rather dark and matted down. A small breeze carried over her scent and he understood immediately. He moved to stand beside her in silence. Her eyes were dull and downcast, but that wasn’t his biggest concern.

She was drenched head to toe in blood. He wasn’t sure if any of it was hers, but he understood the look in her eye all too well, having been there many times himself.

“My apologies, Hokage-sama.” Her voice was distant and lifeless. He watched her expression, but aside from her moving lips, she remained stoically staring down at the names written across the base of the monument. “The mission was a failure,” she continued. He waited for her to say something else, or to look at him, or maybe to leave. She didn’t. Even when the heavy clouds above finally gave way to a downpour, she remained still.

He watched from the corner of his eye while the rain left tracks along her bloodied skin, and as it soaked through her hair, turning red as it dripped down onto her face.

“Sakura,” he said softly, “let’s get you home.” When she gave him no acknowledgement, he slowly reached a hand out to her, palm facing upward. He didn’t touch her; he simply offered his hand and waited for her to be ready to accept his help.

They stayed there until the grey skies went black, his hand still outstretched to her. He wasn’t sure how much longer this would last. She was shivering on her feet, cold from the rain, he assumed, though it was very possible that her psychological state had something to do with it as well. Just as he considered that she simply did not want his help, he felt her icy fingers brush against his.

She left a trail of red on his skin as she hooked her frigid pinky finger into his own. He gently let their hands, barely joined, drop and hang between them.

“Come,” he said quietly, before slowly leading her away from the cenotaph and toward her apartment. She dragged her feet slowly, but she followed, keeping that finger wrapped around his. He squeezed it time and again, to let her know she was there with him, that she had an anchor if she needed it. She didn’t squeeze back, but she had continued to follow him. He supposed that would have to be good enough.

He let them into her apartment, thankful that the heat had been on in her absence. The warm air greeted them, and he watched as some colour returned to the pieces of pale skin he could see beneath the blood and mud caked on her. For the first time, she raised her eyes to him. They were empty and lost; it was a familiar look that he had seen before, in his own mirror.

If he could come out on the other side of it, mostly intact, he had no doubt she would make it out.

He ducked down to unfasten her shoes, and then guided her out of them, stepping onto the hardwood floors of her home. She kept her eyes on him, locked and unblinking. He guided her to her bathroom, walking backwards and keeping his face turned to her. She was leaving a trail of bloody footprints from her front door to her washroom, and all the way into the shower.

She stood beneath the showerhead, still watching him in silence. He reached around her to turn on the warm water. She flinched slightly at the initial impact, but was otherwise unmoved. As the water grew warmer, her shoulders slumped further. Brown and red ran down her body and pooled at her feet, slowly seeping out of her hair, skin and clothes. Eventually, he could see the pinkness of her again; her hair, her cheeks, her chapped, broken lips.

She looked a mess, but she was recognizable, at least. He was sure that this would help bring her back to herself. He was reassured when she exhaled a long, deep breath, let her eyes slide shut, and tilted her head back to let the warm water spray over her face.

After a few more minutes, once he was sure she could handle cleaning herself off; he moved to pull away, to give her some privacy. At the feeling of his finger slipping away from hers, her eyes snapped open and her finger closed tightly around his, hard enough that he felt the bones break under her grip.

With a wince and a quiet intake of breath, he slowly stepped closer to her, hoping she would loosen her grip around his crushed finger. She did, but still kept her hand connected to his. Her eyebrows were pinched, her eyes looking panicked as they darted back and forth quickly between his own.

“I’m here,” he assured her, “but you need to shower. I’ll just be on the other side of this door.” Her shoulders tightened again, as did her grip. He winced. “Okay, okay,” he said hurriedly, reaching out for her cautiously with his other hand. She eyed it indifferently.

“Stay,” she whispered. He nodded slowly in acceptance.

“I’ll stay,” he promised, “but I need you to let go so we can get these clothes off.” He said, gently pulling his injured hand free of hers. She didn’t fight him this time. Her arms hung limp by her side as she watched him. He considered the best course of action; he was certain, under normal circumstances, Sakura would have loathed having him help her like this. She would have slinged insults at him for being anywhere near her and her shower, but the Sakura in front of him right now did not have that fire in her to fight him.

With a sigh, he unhooked her vest and loosened the straps of her arm braces until everything slipped off of her and splashed loudly against the tile of her shower. She didn’t react to the noise, only watching him and waiting for him to continue. He reached out for the hem of her shirt, and when he tugged it upwards, she compliantly raised her arms over her head to let him.

Her skin beneath her clothes was bloody as well. He had a feeling she had been wounded, judging by the dried blood pooled in different areas of her body. Regardless, she was healed now. Physically, anyway. Her pants were easier to remove. He unbuttoned them and they slipped down her slender hips on their own, weighed down with water. He did have to help her step out of them, though. The water sprayed down onto his hair and the side of his face as he leaned down to tug them off her ankles.

He handed her her soap while he grabbed her shampoo. He hoped she wouldn’t wait for his help with washing her. She didn’t. She only turned so her back was to him, tilting her head back toward him while she slowly lathered herself. He was careful not to press too hard onto her skin, or tug at any strands as he meticulously ran his fingers through her hair, watching the suds turn red with blood.

He had to shampoo her hair a few times before all the blood came out. He didn’t want to ask how she had come to be so covered in it. He was certain her teammates’ blood was in the mix. He could only imagine what had come to pass. He wouldn’t ask her; he’d find out soon enough in the mission report, whenever she was able to make it.

For now, bringing her back to herself, little by little, was the goal. Her skin was pink from the hot water, and clean. Every inch of her, free of blood and dirt. He felt odd, checking over her for anymore spots, but he knew that this was better than the alternative. The last thing he wanted was for her to open her eyes in the morning to find lingering evidence haunting her skin.

Cleaned and rinsed off, he wrapped her tightly in a big towel and led her into her bedroom. She sat herself on the edge of her bed and watched as he moved around her room, opening and closing drawers, looking for something to dress her in. He found her underwear, and some socks, plucking out whatever pair was first in reach.

A basket of fresh laundry, folded but not yet put away, sat by the foot of her bed. He grabbed a familiar orange shirt from the pile and offered it to her. She stared at it mildly surprised, and he was infinitely relieved when he saw the corners of her lips tilt the slightest bit upward. She took it from him, holding it tightly in her fists as she peered at it.

He hesitated, wondering if she would react badly if he tried to step away again. Her eyes lifted to him and she rested the shirt on her lap.

“I can do it,” she whispered. “Thank you, Kakashi-sensei.” He nodded slowly and moved to leave her room.

He made them tea while she dressed herself. Non-caffeinated and calming, and he made sure to use her favourite mug—some ridiculously large mug with a medical pun that he didn’t understand written on it. He had just set the filled cups down onto her coffee table when he heard her emerge from her room.

Her footfalls were soft and slow as she approached him on her big grey couch. She sat beside him, legs tucked under her, and sunk into its soft cushions. He held out the mug to her, placing it carefully into her palms so she could cup it and feel its warmth.

He stayed with her until she fell asleep, at which point he scooped her up and put her in her bed. She would be fine, he thought. He would make sure of it.

* * *

Sakura had given her mission report the next day, despite Kakashi telling her to take a few days for herself. He couldn’t very well reprimand her for it—she was Konoha’s top medic—but he _could_ force her into a short-term leave. He knew her well enough to know her first instinct would be to bury herself in work and missions to try to forget the teammates she had buried along the way.

The funeral for Saito Naomi and Matsuoka Ren saw many shinobi come to pay their respects. As respected jonin and ANBU, they had had many comrades who knew them well. Sakura, Kakashi knew, had not known them well. That had been her first time meeting them; on that ANBU mission. She had been their team captain. Having been the last person to see them alive, she was stood in the front row of the funeral-goers, paying her respects alongside their friends and families.

As Hokage, it was his duty to stand with his village when they faced a loss such as this. It wasn’t his duties as Hokage that kept him glued to Sakura’s side throughout the ceremony, though. It was the blank stare in her glassy green eyes, and the way she tripped over her words when anyone spoke to her. The way she studiously examined the photographs on display, as if she was trying to memorize their faces.

In all likelihood, she probably couldn’t remember their likeness very well. He could see the guilt was weighing on her. There was little he could do but make it known that it was a burden she wouldn’t have to carry alone. He understood better than anyone what it meant to lose your comrades. What it was like to feel responsible for their deaths.

They were halfway through the service when he felt her cold fingers brush against his. He kept his eyes forward, just as she did, but he understood what it meant when her pinky looped lightly into his. She didn’t look at him, or gesture, or do anything, really, except for that finger. He flexed his finger against hers gently, in a show of support. Her finger tightened around his, and stayed there for the remainder of the service.

They had asked her to speak. As the person with Ren and Naomi in their final moments, the families had wanted her to speak. To say something about the sorts of people they were; that they were strong, and loyal, and had not died in vain. Her finger tightened nearly unbearably against his.

With a brush of his thumb against her hand, and a nod to Ren’s wife, he took the podium himself.

“Haruno Sakura has asked me to share with you, on her behalf, a few words about the dearly departed.” He was careful not to linger long on her surprised eyes as his gaze drifted over the crowd. The families did not look disappointed that the Hokage had stepped up in Sakura’s place.

He had familiarized himself with Ren’s and Naomi’s lives and careers within Konoha, and with the finer points of their final mission. It was not difficult for him to speak to their characters, their contributions, and the profound loss the village would face in their wake.

Ren’s wife had thanked him for his words and Sakura by extension. Her daughter, little more than an infant, was reaching a tiny dimpled hand out toward Sakura as her mother was preoccupied. He watched in his periphery as Sakura lifted her hand tentatively, watching in wonder as the little girl wrapped her whole hand around Sakura’s little finger.

At the same time, the little finger on Sakura’s unoccupied hand looped into his lightly.

* * *

“I’m removing you from ANBU,” he told her once her mandatory leave had ended. That day, she had immediately come looking for a new mission. Her eyes drifted from where they had been fixated on his desk and up to his face.

“Because I failed,” she stated. She wouldn’t have believed him if he contradicted her, even though it would have been the truth. Instead, he gave her an alternative cause to throw herself at.

“We need you in Konoha. Your proposal for the mental health clinic has been approved; you’ll need to be here to spearhead the operation.” He thought he saw a spark in her eye, however brief, and he felt relieved that he had made the right decision. He had gone through quite a lot of political runaround to get those papers approved ahead of schedule. He owed quite a few favours to quite a few people he wouldn’t have otherwise chosen to interact with, by any means.

“I understand. Thank you, Hokage-sama.”

He realized belatedly that he should have set stricter parameters regarding the introduction of the hospital, because she wasted no time in throwing herself into it. Too many times, he found her fast asleep in her office, face-down on a stack of papers. Every time, he simply roused her and demanded she go home, and every time she would give him a forced grin and assure him that she would just tidy up her desk and head out. 

Somehow, she was the only person who managed to get to work before and leave after he did, every single day, without fail. The hospital neighboured the Hokage tower, and it became routine for him to pop in on her on his way to his own office, if for no other reason than to kick start his day with a healthy dose of feeling inadequate. She made him look like a freeloader in comparison.

No matter how often or adamantly he told her to take some time for herself—that the project would come together much more easily if she hadn’t killed herself first—it always seemed to fall on deaf ears.

One day, she fell asleep mid-sentence, after he had just interrupted her from drooling into her documents. She had been assuring him, yet again, that she was fine and taking perfectly good care of herself when she dozed off, right in the middle of speaking to him.

With a sigh, he circled around her desk and lifted her out of her seat. If she wouldn’t listen to reason, he would have to resort to force.

He knew she was exhausted with the way she hadn’t even noticed that she had been picked up and carried off. Even when nurses and doctors stopped to stare after him in surprise or horror, whispering in his wake, she remained fast asleep.

She was not pleased when she’d awakened on the old leather couch in his office.

“I am an adult, I don’t need you to impose a bed time on me,” she said, brimming with pent up anger; anger, he was certain, had nothing to do with her impromptu nap in his office. “I am perfectly in control of my own life, Kakashi.” It was the first time she had called him by his name, sans-honorific. She didn’t look sorry to have done it, and he wasn’t particularly upset by it, either.

He didn’t tell her that it was clear to him and everyone else around her that she was far from being in control. He simply watched as she stalked in front of his desk, her hair falling out of the messy pile it was in at the top of her head, and her eyes dancing more in anger than they had with any emotion in months. She huffed and ranted, insulting him and complaining about his insufferable tendency to check in on her.

“I’m not a child.” She was panting hard, her cheeks flushed, and her eyes bright. He was well aware that she wasn’t a child. He had been aware of that for quite awhile.

“You’ve just thrown a tantrum in my office; I’d say you’re behaving pretty childishly.” That did absolutely nothing to dampen her anger.

“You put me down for a nap,” she accused him through a tightly clenched jaw.

“You’ve been running yourself into the ground,” he pointed out. “If you continue like this, I’ll have no choice but to recommend you be taken off as lead on this project.” The shocked look on her face almost made him retract what he’d said.

“You can’t do that,” she said after a beat of silence passed, as it was made clear that he would not concede. “You _can’t_ , Kakashi, this is—this is all…this is everything. It’s all I _have_.” Her voice broke and he saw what he had been waiting to see finally emerge. He hadn’t anticipated the break to be quite so powerful, but that one wavering note in her voice, mounted with months’ worth of sleep deprivation and stress, on a wobbly foundation of trauma sent her crumbling.

He caught her easily when her legs gave out under her. Her body, lighter than it had been a few months ago, shuddered and convulsed against him with the force of her sobs. He sat them down back on that couch, Sakura sitting sideways across his lap, her face buried in his chest as she continued to cry, loudly and unabashed. He set a privacy seal as she did, not wanting anyone to encounter her in such a vulnerable state.

Her nails were biting into his neck as she held herself to him, but he remained where he was with his hand splayed on her back, gently stroking her through her sobs. Eventually, bawling tuned to hiccups and sniffling, all the while she remained with her forehead pressed to the crook of his neck.

“It’s not fair,” she whispered. He didn’t need to ask what she meant.

“I know,” he said. She pulled herself far enough away from him to blink her red, puffy eyes at him.

“How do you do it?” she asked, lip quivering and eyebrows drawing tight together. He swiped his thumb across her wet cheek.

“With help,” he answered honestly. She sniffed again before wiping her sleeve roughly against her runny nose.

“I’m sorry I yelled at you,” she mumbled. She’d also gotten snot on his shirt, but he wouldn’t bring that up. Where their hands sat beside each other on her lap, she reached her pinky out to brush against his. He pressed his lips to her forehead before he could stop himself.

* * *

Sakura handled her emotions far better than Kakashi ever had. He admired that about her; the way she could succumb to her emotions, just to pick herself back up, better than ever. They never seemed to weigh her down for very long. He was in awe of that.

The second time she had broken down in his office, legs draped over his on that big leather sofa, she had laughed bitterly about how sad and weak he must have thought her. He had told her that she wasn’t weak for crying, and that he was happy to be there for her whenever she needed him. She had given him a watery smile before ducking her face back into his neck, to no doubt get more snot on his shirt.

He hadn’t told her what he really thought; that the way she was able to give into, and understand her emotional needs was astonishing to him. He never seemed to know what he needed until it was too late. But Sakura? Sakura would come to him calmly, tell him how her day was going; sometimes they made it through the conversation with little more than a tear, and sometimes they ended up on that couch with her bawling into his chest.

No matter what, she always left lighter than how she came in. He thought that probably made her one of the strongest, bravest people he’d ever known.

Sometimes he would find her by the cenotaph. He wasn’t sure how often she visited. It seemed she was there nearly every time he was. He wasn’t entirely surprised by it; she always seemed to be everywhere before he was. He wondered if his internal clock really was out of order.

They never spoke when they stood by the monument. They just stood side by side in silence, never acknowledging one another, but for the way her little finger reached toward his. Every time, without fail, he would reach back and let her loop their fingers together. Sometimes, on the days that they stood there a little too long, they would walk away together with their two fingers still entwined.

* * *

Eventually, her visits to his office to lighten her heavy load became something else entirely. Somehow, he found his own load lightening with every visit. Sometimes she would stand behind his chair and peek over his shoulder at all the sensitive documents she was absolutely not supposed to be privy to.

Sometimes she would sit at the other side of his desk and make conversation, or tease him, or cry. Sometimes she would sit on his desk and swing her legs around, doing those same things. On bad days she would go straight to their couch, or his lap, depending just how bad things were.

Sometimes she would sit across and work alongside him, glancing up at him every so often to smile softly at him. Those days were his favourites. He always felt lighter than air after one of those days.

One day, she came to him worried about a mission she’d been assigned to. He had personally approved the mission, feeling she was ready to get back to field work, as much as he wanted to keep her within Konoha for his own selfish reasons. She was happy to be back on the roster, but terrified about what it might bring up for her.

“Do you feel like you’re not ready?” he asked, knowing she would wave him off, whether she felt ready or not.

“I’m…I’m just scared,” she admitted, albeit begrudgingly. She was sat on his desk today, slumped over her knees, face propped up on her elbow. He reached out to squeeze her knee. She placed her palm over his as he did, squeezing him back as if he was the one in need of comforting. The knots in his stomach that he hadn’t even known existed began to unwind. She was always a step ahead of him.

“Well, I could permanently remove you from the roster,” he suggested. She laughed and swatted at him. He was glad to see her smile; it always put his mind at ease. “You’re a capable kunoichi, Sakura. This mission is well within your wheelhouse.”

“I know it is, but that’s just it,” she said, sighing and swinging her legs. “They all are, until they aren’t.”

Her mission had gone without a hitch, of course. In fact, she’d actually completed it earlier than expected, returning home with her team days ahead of when they were expected. When she’d waltzed into his office three days early, he had been terrified something had happened.

“Something did happen,” she’d said, grinning ear to ear. “I took names and kicked ass.” They laughed together and spent the rest of the afternoon in his office. She gave him her unofficial report, but mostly they just enjoyed each other’s company. At the end of the day, they left his office together, lazily making their way through the village toward the entertainment district.

“How about a celebratory dinner?” he proposed. The full moon couldn’t shine as bright as her smile.

“As long as you’re buying,” she teased as she looped her arm into his and dragged him to her favourite haunt. They sat in the noisy little restaurant, waiters and patrons bustling around them ceaselessly, but he felt quite relaxed, sitting across a tiny table from Sakura, who was excitedly perusing the menu, as if she didn’t order the same thing every time.

“Miso with eggplant,” he ordered when the waiter came around. Sakura rolled her eyes.

“You’re so boring,” she said even though she ordered vegetable tempura, like she always did. “Do you want to share an order of beef gyoza?” she asked, just like she had every time before. As usual, he agreed and when their food came, he took one of the gyoza and left the rest to her.

He wondered when he had gotten so accustomed to this; it was second nature to him now.

With a mischievous grin, she ordered sake and shots for them to share, despite the reproachful look he shot her.

“What? We’re celebrating,” she said with a giggle and a tap of her cup against his. “Kanpai!” He met her sip for sip, feeling as warm and giggly as she was; sitting across from him, her cheeks flushed, eyes dancing and foot wiggling around incessantly, bumping into his leg now and again. Every time she jostled him she’d smile sheepishly and stop the wiggling, but then a few minutes would go by and she’d be back at it. He really didn’t mind.

Another few cups of sake down the line, and she was leaning across the table, chin propped up on her hand, smiling at him with the easiest, most welcoming smile he’d ever seen. When her foot brushed against him that time, he jumped, knocking the table with his knee and sending the remains of her dipping sauce off the edge and into her lap.

He apologized, thoroughly embarrassed, but she had just waved him off and giggled.

“Who knew you were so clumsy, Kakashi-sama?” she teased. He felt his ears burn. With her no longer able to sit with her lap drenched in tentsuyu and speckled with soggy tempura bits, Kakashi settled the tab and they made their way home. “Thank you, Kakashi,” she said, smiling up at him.

“For what, ruining your pants?” he joked. Her eyes sparkled as she held his gaze, looping that little finger of hers into his as they walked.

“For being here.”

* * *

Kakashi woke to some irritating beeping noise that seemed to be right next to his ear. Slowly, he opened his eyes feeling groggier than he had in a very long time. He’d barely cracked them and found he was overwhelmed with harsh lights. He grunted at the shock to his eyes.

“Kakashi?” a frantic whisper sounded. “Oh, thank the gods,” she whispered again. He felt something warm against his hand. He tried to open his eyes again to see what was happening, but by the time he was able to focus, all he could see was Sakura sitting by his bed, dark circles under her eyes, and cheeks stained with dried tears. He looked down to his hand to see her little finger looped tightly into his. He gave it an experimental squeeze.

He tried to ask her what was going on, but when he tried to speak, all that came out was a croak, followed by a coughing fit. She shushed him softly, letting go of his finger to hold a cup of water to his lips.

“There was an assassination attempt,” she said as he slowly sipped on the water. He quirked an eyebrow up at her in surprise. “Odorless poison,” she explained, her voice warbling slightly. “Your stupid nose couldn’t detect it,” she continued with a pout and tears brimming in her eyes. “I almost didn’t make it to you in time.”

“Who?” he managed to rasp out. He watched unhappily as her eyes darkened.

“Doesn’t matter. They’re dead now.”

Sakura had healed him of the poison herself; removing it from his system in what he learned was a six-hour long process. Unfortunately, the poison had been in his system for some time, so he was looking at a longer-than-normal recovery period. Fortunately, he was the Hokage and there were very few people that could keep him anywhere he didn’t want to be.

His title didn’t hold much weight with his former team members, however. As if Sakura couldn’t have bullied him into submission herself, she had also enlisted Naruto, Tenzou, Sai, and even Sasuke to ensure he behaved. She had given him one concession; he could rest at home instead of at the hospital. That meant round-the-clock medical care in his home, which he had been ready to dispute, until she said _she_ would be the medical care. That seemed much more bearable.

His former teammates had very little faith in him, which became abundantly clear very quickly. Whenever Sakura had to step away to go home or to the hospital for an emergency or whatever else came up, someone was immediately there with him in her stead. At first, it had been horribly irksome. He was used to Sakura’s presence, but the others were far more grating.

Tenzou wasn’t so bad, he could admit. His kohai wouldn’t dote, didn’t rupture his eardrums when he spoke, nor would he skulk around with a scowl. He _would_ , however, constantly pin him with wide eyes, watching his every move; like Kakashi was in the midst of some grand scheme, and he was hell-bent on preventing it.

His only scheme was to get Sakura back in this house so that these other buffoons would leave him be.

Sai also hadn’t been so bad, except that he had set up an easel by Kakashi’s bed and was constantly painting and drawing him. He had a whole collection of face-possibilities, and Kakashi was horrified to see that they were pretty spot-on.

Naruto was less of a babysitter than he was someone who needed babysitting. He had barged into Kakashi’s room more than once, demanding he wake up because he was bored and needed someone to talk to. When Kakashi had refused, Naruto had thought it would be a good idea to pop out a few shadow clone friends. The only thing louder than Naruto was three Narutos. Sasuke had come to relieve him, and when he saw what Naruto was doing, he had called him an idiot, and then the Fifth Shinobi War had almost erupted in his living room.

Sakura had been furious, which was consequence enough to appease Kakashi. Fewer things were as terrifying as Sakura’s fury. It was a good thing both Sasuke and Naruto were absurdly strong, because she had wailed on them something fierce.

After that, she had taken fewer outings. He was embarrassed to feel relieved by that; he liked having her there with him. After a few more days of Sakura practically living in his house, she transitioned from _practically_ to _actually_. The realization hit him when he went to shower one day, and her body scrubs, washes, and lotions were littered around his washroom, along with a bright green loofah and a sparkly-handled toothbrush.

He wasn’t sure why it surprised him. He’d woken in the middle of the night a few times to see her sleeping on his couch. She had said multiple times that he would have round-the-clock care, but he hadn’t expected her to be so personally vigilant. And unnecessarily so; it wasn’t as if he didn’t have an ANBU squad stationed outside his door at all times.

“You can’t just sleep on my couch for a month,” he said with a sigh one morning as he sipped on tea and eyed her warily. She was tensed in a full-body stretch, mouth dropped wide in a yawn and clothes riding up as her limbs extended and flexed.

“Are you volunteering your bed?” she teased. He choked on his tea.

He had Tenzou come over and fix up a room for her. It wasn’t anything special; he’d just repurposed a small office space into a second bedroom, complete with custom Mokuton-made furniture. He made the wunderkinds of Team Seven bring in a mattress for her, which he immediately regretted, because Naruto and Sasuke truly could not go ten minutes without an argument breaking out.

Sakura had burst back into his home just as Naruto had told Sasuke his hair was stupid and he was always showing too much cleavage. She had walloped them both but then she realized she was standing in a bedroom with a vase of her favourite flowers, and that her fluffy comforter from her apartment had found its way here, and suddenly her eyes were brimming with tears.

She had hugged them all rather violently, save Kakashi. She had looped her finger into his and kissed his cheek, one lip resting on his skin and the other on his mask. He felt his face burning.

“How come he gets a kiss? He did the least amount of work!” Naruto complained.

“Shut up, dobe,” Sasuke grumbled, although he too was looking quite unhappy with the arrangement. With an exasperated sigh and a dramatic roll of her eyes, she stepped away from Kakashi, and marched over to plant a kiss on each of their cheeks, and then Tenzou’s as well, for good measure.

Naruto was grinning happily, appeased. Sasuke and Tenzou were both pink-cheeked, though Sasuke was significantly grumpier. Sakura decided that, as a thank you, she would extend an invitation for them to stay in Kakashi’s home for dinner. Kakashi had eyed her with slight resentment, but she dutifully ignored him.

It wasn’t all bad. She’d made a big pot of miso, and Kakashi could grudgingly admit that it was nice to sit in the never-before-used dining room with what was, for all intents and purposes, his family.

“Let us know if you need help. Don’t push yourself too hard,” Sasuke mumbled lowly.

“Oh, I’ll be fine, Sasuke. It’s nice to know you worry so much—”

“I wasn’t talking to you,” Sasuke interrupted, scowling at Kakashi. Sakura hid her giggles behind her hand as she bid them farewell and ushered them out of Kakashi’s home.

“Great, now they think they’re welcome to come here whenever they want,” Kakashi said as the door closed.

“Why would they think that?” she asked with a laugh. Sakura had a nasty habit of making the people in her life feel right at home wherever she was, and now ‘ _where she was’_ was in his home. He couldn’t very well tell her that, though.

“That’s what happens when you feed strays,” he said instead.

“Maybe I should just poison everyone next time then,” she offered with a mischievous smile. When he tilted his head in consideration, she gasped and smacked his shoulder. “Kakashi! _No_.”

“Speaking from experience; there are worse things,” he had meant it as a joke mostly, but her eyes hardened as she stared up at him.

“If you ever come close to dying on me again, I’ll save your life just so I can kill you myself.” He believed her wholeheartedly.

* * *

It was worrisome, how easily he’d grown accustomed to her presence in his home. Six weeks had gone by a little too quickly, if he was being honest. One day, he was complaining about the wad of pink hair sat atop his shower drain, and then the next, she had her things packed up and was issuing him a clean bill of health—even though he had been perfectly healthy for the last two weeks.

She was being _thorough_ , she’d said. Part of him wondered if she was just as reluctant to leave as he was to see her go.

It was ridiculous to miss her when he still saw her nearly every day. In his office, or in hers; at a cafe for lunch, or a restaurant for dinner, or a bar for drinks; the cemetery, the cenotaph. They had so many places, and every single one meant something different to him, but none of them ever meant _less_ than the others. Lately, the only place he went that felt disappointing was his own house. It was the only place he went where he couldn’t expect her to be waiting for him.

Sakura waiting for him at home was a thought he shouldn’t have entertained. Once he had, there was really no going back on it. Suddenly, it was all he could see when he opened his door; her, sitting on the couch with her legs tucked under her, some ridiculously large medical textbook in her arms, brow furrowed in concentration, and lips pursed in thought. The window in the living room always had a spectacular view of the sunset, and that had a funny way of making her the warmest pink he’d ever laid eyes on.

He sighed at the empty couch he walked in to. No textbooks, legs, or pinks—warm or otherwise—in sight. Only his lonely house, home to his lonely self.

Most days turned into everyday, and he was relieved to know that she sought him out as often as he sought her. If she hadn’t popped into his office at least once before three in the afternoon, he knew she was swamped with her work, and so he would go to her; he always made sure to bring her a tea and a sweet bun from the bakery across the road, because it was her favourite, and she absolutely abhorred the offerings at the hospital cafeteria.

He was glad she was so preoccupied with the mental hospital project, and her increased duties within Konoha General, because it meant she spent more time in the village instead of on missions. She complained about getting restless, and he jokingly asked her how she thought he felt. Really, what he felt was nervous that she would eventually go on a mission and he would have no idea what to do with himself in her absence.

He was ashamed to admit that he would always prioritize other med-nin over her for mission assignments, whenever possible. It had been pretty easy; their medics were performing excellently, in no small part thanks to Sakura’s efforts with training and reforming procedure.

One day, a mission came that he couldn’t pawn off. His other A-Rank medics were away or otherwise occupied, and he couldn’t send someone who wasn’t prepared. So, when she came to his office that afternoon, he grudgingly handed her the scroll. She took it with a small smile and a raised eyebrow.

“What, all your other medics too busy?” she asked, her smile knowing. He felt his ears burn in embarrassment. He had expected her to be angry; he had been prepared for her anger, should she ever realize what he’d been doing. He had _not_ anticipated understanding and giggles.

“Yes,” he grumbled unhappily. She just sat across from him, chomping on an apple and reading over her mission scroll until his ears dropped to their regular temperature, and they fell into a comfortable quiet. Once his office was tinged orange with the light of the setting sun, they headed out together.

She smiled up at him while they slowly ambled through the village roads on their way to her apartment. He kept his eyes vigilantly forward. He knew what he would see if he looked down at her smile; warm pink cheeks, soft pink hair, dewy pink lips, and sparkling green eyes. And then he wouldn’t be able to see them again for a week, maybe longer.

Never deterred, she simply continued smiling as she looped her finger into his and pulled him along. She proposed takeout, stopping along the way at some yakisoba stand to pick out their favourites, before slipping her finger against his once more and continuing on to her home.

He grabbed the stack of envelopes sitting outside her door as she let them in, carefully flipping through the letters to arrange them in the order she liked to open them. Personal letters first, then bills, then coupons; she was unyielding in that tradition. She said bills were always bad, so they had to be in the middle, and personal letters could go either way, so they had to go first. Coupons and flyers, however, were always good news.

“Anything good?” she asked as she unpacked their dinner from the large paper bag. He smiled down at the thick purple envelope in his hands.

“Define good.” Curious, she left the food in its bag and peeked down at the envelope in his hands. He was pretty sure his ninken could hear the high-pitched squeal she emitted from the summoning realm. She tore the envelope open and yanked out the thick card. As far as wedding invitations went, Kakashi figured this was a pretty nice one.

“I’m glad she settled on that font, the other one was a little too pretentious,” Sakura said as she sat down on her sofa and looked over the invitation, and waited for him to finish unpacking their dinner. He obliged, carrying over their noodles and chopsticks to her coffee table. She absentmindedly shovelled food into her mouth while she admired the card.

“How can a font be pretentious?” He regretted asking it the moment it left his mouth.

The finer points of lettering aside, they enjoyed a nice evening together. Before he knew it, he was stepping back into his shoes and awkwardly standing at her door.

“Goodnight, Kakashi,” she said with a slow smile. “I’ll see you—” She was going to say she’d see him _tomorrow_. He looked away and cleared his throat, trying to hide his discontent. “I’ll see you soon,” she finished, her smile a little sad as she reached out tentatively to wrap her arms around him in a quick hug. He chided himself for not taking the opportunity to look at her in that sunset earlier. He should have drunk it in while he still could. Now he would have to wait awhile for another opportunity.

* * *

“I don’t suppose you’d like to have a date to the wedding?” was the first thing out of her mouth when she breezed into his office after being gone for two weeks. He looked up at her, standing at his desk, still wearing her mission gear.

“You’re late,” he said before turning his attention back to his paperwork. Or, at least, he tried to. The sun was setting behind him and he was tempted to stare at her for the duration of it.

“Forgive me, Hokage-sama,” she said, not sounding sorry in the least, “I was a little out of practice.”

“We should probably rectify that,” he said, losing the battle with himself and lifting his gaze to her again.

“I don’t think my boss would like that very much.” She wasn’t wrong, but he wouldn’t take the bait.

“Why would I need a date to the wedding?” he asked, deciding that returning to that topic was the lesser of two evils.

“The Hokage, attending a momentous wedding, _single_?” she said with a dramatic gasp. “There aren’t enough ANBU in Fire to beat all the lusty kunoichi away.” There was bait in that statement as well, but he wouldn’t bite it. Instead, he eyed her carefully, before giving her one curt nod. She seemed endlessly pleased with that lacklustre agreement. He was just glad to have her and her warmth back where they belonged.

* * *

Sakura remained in the village for the months leading up to the wedding. She had given him her express permission to take her off the mission roster unless she was absolutely needed, and she had done so with the most mischievous look in her eye. He pretended not to know what she was so smug about, and told her he would honour her wishes, even though he’d already taken her off rotation.

If he had to be stuck in Konoha, it was only fair someone was stuck with him. At least, that was what he told himself.

She had told him to pick her up for four, and he had actually been very punctual. He figured some things were worth showing up on time for, and one of those things, to him, was Sakura draped in some molten-silver gown that made his blood boil. She was running late, and when he grinned at her from under his mask, she had glared at him with a fiery hatred.

“Don’t say it,” she warned him as she used him as a crutch while she slipped her feet into her sparkly sandals. “Shit, I forgot perfume,” she mumbled as she quickly clacked through her apartment to her bedroom, to re-emerge just as noisily, clutching a bottle of perfume in each hand. “Which one?” she asked, holding the bottles out for him to get a whiff of.

He shot her his best unimpressed look before giving a tiny sniff to each bottle. He tapped a finger on his favourite and she smiled in thanks before tilting her neck to and fro to spritz herself. He realized too late that he should have told her to wear the other one; it wasn’t nearly as complimentary to her natural scent, but that would probably have been better for him in the long run.

Absolutely no one attending the ceremony believed that Kakashi had been on time, and it was Sakura that had made them late.

“Doesn’t Hinata look so beautiful?” Sakura gushed beside him. He watched as the Hyuuga heiress walked toward her fiancé in a grand gown, all eyes on her, and her eyes only for Naruto. Kakashi could admit, she did look quite lovely. He wasn’t sure if it was the hours spent primping so much as the stupendous joy that was splayed across her face, but he was feeling very happy for his former pupil.

Sakura sniffled her way through the wedding, dabbing at the corners of her eyes and looking up at him with the silliest watery smile and glistening eyes, and every time she did it, he found himself smiling back down at her. When Naruto and Hinata said their vows, he felt her finger loop into his as she sniffed into his shoulder. She didn’t let his little finger go for the rest of the ceremony.

He learned early on that evening that, when confronted with questions about his date, he was absolutely, under no circumstance, to tell the truth. The first person who had inquired after her had been all-too pleased to hear that she was not, in fact, his girlfriend, but just a friend. Kakashi supposed he should have expected as much. The silky gown she wore moved like water over her body, dripping down every delicate curve.

The second time someone asked about his date, Kakashi had slipped his arm around her waist and hugged her to his side. He introduced her first and foremost as the brilliant med-nin she was, followed by a quick and inarguable “and my girlfriend”, which had suitors standing down and Sakura gaping at him in shock.

“You do realize that you’ve basically announced to all of Konoha that we’re dating, right?” she pointed out as he steered her away from the disappointed chunin who had barely taken the time to lift his eyes any higher than the plunging neckline of her dress.

“We can have a horrible breakup in the morning,” he assured her. For now, this was the safest option. For his sanity, and the other guests.

“Hmm, alright, but I get to dump you.” He could agree to those terms. He wasn’t sure anyone that saw her tonight would believe that it could ever be the other way around, anyway. “So, how does Hatake Kakashi treat a girlfriend?” she asked, eyes dancing with glee. “I don’t want to squander this opportunity to get the royal treatment.”

“Considering I don’t have one, I’d say poorly,” he said dryly.

“Good point. Give me the royal treatment, and hold the reality, please,” she said, grinning up at him and hugging his arm with both of hers as they walked around the reception together.

It was surprisingly easy to be Sakura’s pretend-boyfriend. It was even more surprising how _fun_ it was. The looks they got were absolutely priceless, from the shocked and annoyed faces, to the amused, knowing faces. Kakashi decided that any wedding he attended from this day onward would require Sakura be in attendance with him.

“What happens if I get married?” she asked through her giggles as they sipped champagne together.

“Well, it’s a little early to talk about marriage, but I’m not scared of a little commitment,” he teased, enjoying the way the tears gathered in the corners of her eyes as she laughed endlessly.

“Rival!” Kakashi buckled under the weight of Gai’s passion, manifesting as a loud clap down onto Kakashi’s shoulder. Sakura’s giggles stuttered to a close as she watched the exchange with her pink lips parted around a stunned “oh”. “Congratulations on your youthful affection! The blossoming of new love becomes you.”

“It is rather youthful, isn’t it?” Sakura teased, her eyes only on Kakashi as his ears burned.

“My beloved student will be sad to hear your heart has been stolen, young blossom, but what a worthy opponent in love!” Gai exclaimed, and Kakashi ducked his head as faces started turning in their direction. He silently begged Sakura to help him. With a sly wink, she moved to squish herself between Kakashi and Gai, grinning up at the green-clad king of enthusiasm with a keenness to rival his own.

“Gai-sensei, I can only hope that Kakashi and I spend our years together with as much vibrancy and passion as your rivalry has brought you.” The look on Gai’s face was dubious until Sakura clapped her own hand down onto his shoulder with a force that had his knees buckling beneath him.

“Excellent, young blossom!” he cried once he regained his footing, scooping Sakura up by her waist and twirling her. “Such strength for such a small person! Incredible. Rival, you are blessed!” Sakura giggled as Gai twirled her a few more times, and Kakashi thought that Gai was, as usual, quite right. He was feeling very blessed in that moment.

Once her feet were firmly planted back on the ground, and Gai had moved on to greener pastures of youth and vitality, Kakashi clinked his glass to hers in cheers to their new love. “To youthful affection,” Sakura said, her eyes sparkling over the rim of her glass as she held his gaze and sipped her champagne.

A few drinks and conversations later, and the announcement that the newlyweds were on their way into the reception came. Everyone made their way to their tables to wait for their entrance. Kakashi was shocked that Sakura’s face didn’t split in half with how wide she was grinning. The large crowd of guests erupted into thunderous applause as the couple walked in; looking more in love than Kakashi thought anyone had ever looked. He smiled to himself, thinking that it suited Naruto, and then turned that smile to Sakura.

“I had no idea you were such a romantic,” Sakura whispered, leaning close to him, her lips brushing his ear and her hand softly sweeping against his.

“You did request the royal treatment, did you not?” he whispered back, turning his face to hers. Her laughing eyes softened as she slipped her hand fully into his, her eyes wandering over his masked face. “I’m nothing if not dedicated.” For once, it was her cheeks that went pink. It felt good to know he wasn’t the only one who got flustered when their tiptoeing went a hair too far away from platonic flirting.

Naruto made an impressively loud speech, filled with grand gestures and declarations of love for both his new wife and all the people in attendance. Everyone was hanging onto every word, cheering and clapping excitedly; Sakura was squeezing his hand and beaming at his side, watching her best friend with immense pride.

The other speeches were much more subdued in comparison. Sakura shed a tear when Hinata spoke about her lifelong love, and Kakashi nudged her playfully, earning him a wicked punch and a smile through wobbly lips.

They shared a table with the other members of Team Seven and Team Ten, which made for an interesting night. At first, none of them had seemed very interested in the increased affection Sakura and Kakashi had engaged in, and Kakashi wondered what that said for their regular interactions, if no one who knew them seemed to bat an eye at this. Some eyebrows were raised when Hinata and Naruto shared a kiss and invited all the other couples to join in the tradition.

Sakura playfully leaned into him and pressed her lips to his cheek, her hand splayed out on his chest, slowly sliding across it. Surprised, he turned to face her, their noses brushing against one another. With a tiny quirk of her lips, she pressed a small peck against his masked lips. He knew his cheeks were visibly red above his mask.

“Uh…that’s new,” Chouji said, pausing with his chopsticks mid-air, halfway from his plate to his mouth.

“Is it, though?” Shikamaru said, eyebrow raised and expression indifferent. Kakashi tried not to think about how unperturbed the people around them were. He had thought it would have been hilariously shocking, but the only reaction they got was Sasuke scowling into his salad, cheeks pink and eyebrows pinched together.

He was pretty sure the person at their table who was most surprised was him. His palms felt sweaty where they lay face down on his knees, and he could feel his heart was beating a little too quickly, especially when he felt her hand brush against his leg under the table, only to settle on her own knee, tilted close enough to his that she could hook her pinky into his.

Aside from the slight pink in her cheeks, no one would ever know anything out of the ordinary had taken place. It was easy for anyone to write off her flushed face as a consequence of her drinks, or from how hard she was grinning. The only indication he had that he wasn’t the only one reeling was the pinky looped into his, flexing gently every time her eyes turned to him. She kept her hand there through every course, only releasing him when dinner had been served and Hinata was gathering the singles to go catch the bouquet.

She winked at him as she stood from her seat, and for a moment he forgot they were just pretending. He found himself watching her walk away in that sumptuous dress, hugging and flowing around her in a way that sparked envy in him; the way her hips swayed with every step, the curve of her spine, the smooth expanse of her back beneath that luxurious fabric.

She caught the bouquet, much to Ino’s ire. They bickered all the way back to the table, Sakura lauding her flowers like a trophy.

“Let it go, Ino,” Shikamaru said with a long sigh.

“It’s only fair,” Sai said with a pleasant smile.

“ _Thank you_ , Sai,” Sakura said with a smug smile. Ino glared at her over the table.

“Of course,” Sai continued. “After all, Kakashi-sensei is significantly older than us. He doesn’t have time to waste.”

The table erupted into loud laughter at his expense, and he shot Sai a withering glare that was received with utter obliviousness. He wasn’t sure how he’d managed to be the butt of an ongoing joke after he’d only been “dating” Sakura for all of three hours, but he was having a hard time being angry about it when her fingers were toying with his under the table, and her knee was pressing delicately to his every time she giggled at his expense, like a tiny apology. He found it very easy to forgive her.

Giggles and footsies were hardly his style, but somehow he found himself leaning into it. It didn’t feel so silly when she would flutter her long eyelashes at him, or hit him with a teasing smirk. She always looked like she knew something he didn’t. He wasn’t sure what it was, but he had the feeling he could spend all his time chasing after it and still never know. Frustrating, for a man who generally understood most things, but he was quite enjoying the mystery.

More champagne flowed, cake was cut, and tears gathered in Sakura’s eyes as Naruto clumsily led Hinata around in a dance. At least he hadn’t stepped on her, Kakashi thought. Small victories still counted for something.

Then, the formalities were over with, and everyone was getting good and drunk, and celebrating what was likely Konoha’s most prominent wedding in history. Sakura gripped Kakashi by his wrist and none-too-gently dragged him to the bar for a drink that didn’t sparkle. He didn’t argue, but as he shot back whatever it was she put in front of him, he thought maybe he should have.

“Sakura-chan!!! Kakashi-sensei!!!” Naruto came barreling out of the crowd toward them, his laughing wife dragged along behind him as he clutched her hand. Hinata released him so he could envelope Sakura in a bear hug, holding her tight to him, swinging her back and forth as she dangled in his arms. They laughed together, loud and rambunctiously, and when Sakura squeezed him back with a touch too much strength, he yelped in pain but continued to laugh.

“Congratulations, Hinata-san,” Kakashi said as softly as he could with the two firecrackers setting off beside them. Hinata let out a little laugh, her cheeks pink with joy.

“Thank you, Kakashi-sama,” she said with a slight bow of her head. “Congratulations to you, as well. I didn’t realize…” Sakura really hadn’t been kidding when she said he’d practically told all of Konoha they were dating. Maybe breaking up in the morning would be more complicated than he thought. Normally, such a complication would have been daunting to him, but he found himself perfectly happy to let the villagers think he and Sakura were involved.

Apparently, half of them had thought they already _were_ involved, before he’d ever said a word. Thinking about that made him a little dizzy, so he simply smiled at Hinata and thanked her, just in time to see Naruto release Sakura from the world’s most aggressive hug, and set his blue eyes on Kakashi. He made a noise of protest, but there was no stopping him. Before he knew it, Naruto had wrapped himself around Kakashi, arms and legs alike.

“Kakashi-senseiiiii!” he blubbered, hugging Kakashi unbearably tight.

“I thought he couldn’t get drunk because of the Kyuubi?” Kakashi asked over Naruto’s shoulder.

“He can’t,” Sakura confirmed, watching with a wicked glint in her eye.

“He’s completely sober, Kakashi-sama,” Hinata offered with a pleasant smile. It shouldn’t have surprised him, he supposed. Thankfully, Naruto had many guests to accost, and soon, the newlyweds were moving along. Kakashi was surprised, with everyone there apparently in the know, that Naruto hadn’t had anything to say about the supposed relationship between him and Sakura.

“Hinata knew,” he told her as they stood by the bar and sipped on a drink, watching as couples and groups drifted to and from the dance floor.

“She’s smart enough to not drop that bomb on Naruto on her wedding day,” Sakura said with a laugh. Was it a bomb? No one else seemed to be acting like it was. It seemed to be little more than a blip on their radars.

He wasn’t sure if allowing her to lead him out to the dance floor would do anything to make that blip less obvious, but he couldn’t turn her down. She had already abandoned him a few times to share a dance with friends, who she said had spent the entire dance interrogating her about him. He had thought she was joking, but judging by the annoyed huff she let out at Genma’s teasing, he supposed she must have been telling the truth.

So, he’d agreed to dance with her. Most shinobi were decent dancers, so he wasn’t sure why he was surprised that she moved with grace and fluidity. He’d held her in his arms before, but never quite like this. Suddenly, he was very aware of the way his hand curled around her hip, and just how perfectly her head tucked under his chin. That perfume was coming back to bite him in the ass. She was intoxicating.

Genma whirled past them with a brunette in his arms, taking the time to whistle lowly and wink at them as he passed. Sakura growled after him, and Kakashi slid his hand from her hip to her back soothingly. He felt her shiver against him as his thumb brushed against her bare skin, and smirked beneath his mask. The reminders that she was as susceptible to him as he was her were nice. Sometimes he felt stupendously out of his depth with her.

“Come tomorrow, the news will be out that you’ve broken my poor, old heart, and you’ll have nothing to worry about,” Kakashi assured her with a crinkly-eyed grin. Her smile was more soft than playful when she turned her face up to him. It made his mouth a little dry.

“I would do no such thing to you, Kakashi.” She’d said it with more meaning than he thought the conversation called for, especially with the way her hand drifted down from his shoulder to lace her pinky with his, in that familiar gesture that made him feel closer to her than he had ever felt with anyone.

“Does that mean I get to break up with you?” he asked foolishly. She let out a short bark of a laugh.

“Absolutely not!” she said with an annoyed huff and an adorable pout.

“So, how will it happen then?” he asked, spinning her delicately on her feet and watching her pout turn to a surprised giggle.

“I guess it won’t,” she said playfully.

* * *

“I had no idea you were such a good dancer,” she said as they made their way home, fingers looped together and his jacket draped over her shoulders.

“We all go through the same training, Sakura,” he pointed out.

“That doesn’t mean we all pick it up,” she said with a roll of her eyes. “Look at Naruto.” He couldn’t argue with that. “I had a lot of fun tonight, Kakashi. Thank you for the royal treatment.”

“It was my pleasure,” he said softly, teasingly squeezing his finger around hers. Honestly, he had forgotten he was meant to be putting on a show for her. He hadn’t done anything he hadn’t felt naturally inclined to do. She was so enchanting; he couldn’t very well be anything less. She buried her face in the flowers of the sought after bouquet, inhaling deeply before letting out a contented sigh.

“I love weddings,” she said, a small smile on her face as she looked off into the distance. “They remind us what it is we’re fighting for.” He knew it was coming, probably before she did. Suddenly her smile turned sad, and her eyes, surveying the distance, lost focus as she saw something in the abstract distance. Something in her past.

They stopped walking and he moved to stand in front of her, his finger still looped with hers. Carefully, he raised his free hand to her chin and tilted her face up to his.

“Where’d you go?” he asked softly.

“Nowhere good.” A tear slipped down her cheek, solitary and sad.

“Weddings and babies,” he said. She blinked up at him in confusion, the moisture slowly fading from her eyes. “Those are the biggest reminders.”

“I’m a little short on both after today,” she said with a small laugh. He offered her an easy grin as they began walking again.

“Well, you _are_ next,” he said with a flick to one of her peonies.

“Is that a proposal, Hokage-sama?” she teased, leaning into his side and pressing her chin to his shoulder lightly. He hummed in thought.

“Terribly faux-pas for a first date,” he said.

“True. I think we may have skipped over a few important steps,” she said as she swung her leg out in front of him to pivot so she was standing flush to his front. Her eyes were dancing again; telling him she knew something he didn’t. He wanted to pluck out every secret she hid in that beautiful brain of hers.

“Such as?” he asked, even though he had a pretty good idea.

“Our first kiss,” she said, staring up at him from under those thick lashes. She slowly slid her unoccupied hand to the back of his neck, and he let her pull him down until his nose brushed the tip of hers. “I don’t think that other one counts,” she whispered, her eyes flickering down to his mask and then back to his eyes. Her fingertips were playing along the edge of his mask along his cheek, silently asking for permission.

He wrapped his hand around hers, and he saw disappointment flash in her eyes. He hooked her fingers into his mask and tugged it down to reveal the smirk he was hiding beneath it. He felt her breath whoosh over his lips in a long exhale before they met each other in a gentle kiss. Her lips were soft against his, pliable and parted sweetly as she pressed them delicately to his own, exploring him languidly.

When their lips broke apart, she lingered close to him, a whisper away, and her eyes closed as she breathed him in. Finally, she leaned away, and looked at him— _r_ _eally_ looked at him. Her lips fell open as she breathed out a laugh.

“Uh oh,” she whispered softly before leaning into another kiss. He found he would very ardently have to agree.

Eventually they made it past that square on the sidewalk that they had claimed as their own for a while. Sakura had slipped out of her shoes and was walking barefoot beside him, her finger hooked tightly in his and an immovable smile on her pink lips. They busied themselves catching up on the skipped steps, including their second, third, and fourth kisses, and however many there were after that; he had lost count rather early on.

“Our first fight,” she said, pulling out of his kiss with a coy smile. He sighed but let his hand drop from her chin.

“We fight all the time, Sakura.”

“Spars don’t count,” she said with a roll of her eyes. He sighed in mock exasperation.

“Alright,” he conceded. “You’ve been working too many hours, and I want you to stop, and come home at a decent hour.” She frowned at him.

“Are you angling for a real fight here?” she asked with her face pinched in annoyance.

“No, but it looks like we’re headed for an interesting second fight,” he teased, placing a kiss on her forehead and watching her annoyance deflate as she leaned her head into his kiss. “You are unreasonably angry by my request,” he said, biting back a laugh as her eyebrows furrowed again.

“I’ll give you unreasonable anger,” she grumbled under her breath. He continued on as if he hadn’t heard her.

“ _Until_ , you realize that I’m only saying it because I care,” he said with a teasing smile as her cheeks flushed and her pout deepened, “and because I want to spend more time with you.” Her eyes were glued to him as she tried to hold onto whatever bit of irritation she could, but he could see her softening. Finally, with a huff, she rolled her eyes and placed a begrudging peck on his mouth.

“Fine. I will accept that,” she said, her nose lifted haughtily in the air, even as she gently swung their connected hands between them. They had reached her apartment.

“Any other firsts?” he asked, standing a step below her in front of her door.

“One comes to mind,” she said softly, stepping to the edge of the stair and letting her fingers tangle in the hair at the nape of his neck. She kissed him again; deeper and hungrier than before. Her hot breath mingling with his, and the feeling of her tongue on his lip made him dizzy.

“That’s a big first,” he mumbled, resting his forehead against hers once they’d parted. It was one they wouldn’t be able to turn back from, if they went through with it. She didn’t look very concerned.

“Change your mind?” she asked, her tone easy, but her wrists were resting against his neck and he could feel her pulse racing. He gripped her hips a little tighter.

“I’ve promised to let you break up with me, and you’ve vowed to never break my heart, so it seems we’re left with few options,” he said. She frowned down at him.

“I don’t understand.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said with a small smile, and a peck to her forehead. For once, he knew something she didn’t.

“Your jacket!” she called after him.

“I’ll get it tomorrow. Seven o’clock.” He waved at her over his shoulder, already walking away. He heard her door close softly behind him a few prolonged moments later.

The truth was, he had wanted to take her up on the offer. It would be so easy to follow her inside and strip her of that dress that had been driving him mad all night long.

But, it was also true that he was terrified. It was so easy with her. He couldn’t help but feel like they’d accidentally stumbled into something significant, no matter how many jokes they made about it. He wanted to take it slow. He wanted to savour their firsts.

He had a feeling they would be his last firsts.

* * *

She had chided him for being late, even though he knew for a fact she hadn’t been ready until two minutes before he knocked on her door. It had been worth the walk around the block. She was beautiful, with her hair pulled up and to the back of her head, still curled from the day before, and her dewy red lips, and her flirty white dress. She was wearing the perfume he liked. He could smell it every time she flicked her ponytail, or a warm breeze blew past her.

He had been careful not to spill anything on her this time, even though she had scooted into the booth beside him instead of across from him, and had her thigh pressed tightly against his. Her finger was entwined with his in his lap, and at one point, she dragged their hands from his lap to hers, to sit heavy on the bare skin of her thigh.

Still, he didn’t spill anything. He was relieved, because it would have been a shame to ruin that dress, even though it was very effectively ruining him.

They had missed the sunset, but the sky was still orange as the darkness descended. He made the mistake of telling her about how sorry he was to have missed seeing her in the glow of sunset. At first, she had teased him mercilessly, but when she saw the tops of his pink cheeks over his mask, she demanded to see the full effect. And once she’d done that, she promptly forgot about her teasing and decided there were better uses for her lips.

When she invited him inside at the end of the night, he didn’t turn her down.

* * *

It was a shockingly easy transition, from fake dating at Naruto’s wedding, to real dating in everyday life. He began to understand why no one had been terribly surprised; why they had been met with more “congratulations!” than shock and horror.

The people most surprised were Team Seven. Tenzou hadn’t cared much; mostly he was surprised Kakashi had managed to find an emotion that didn’t result in the urge to commit martyrdom. Sasuke had glumly claimed to have known all along, though he had pulled Sakura aside and questioned her in great detail. Sakura thought it was cute he was so concerned, and when she told him as much, his face went bright red and he’d adamantly declared that he was not cute, nor was he concerned.

Sai didn’t understand why they were making an announcement when he had thought they were together months ago. He said it was strange they were telling everyone so belatedly, but he expected nothing less of Kakashi. Sakura had giggled at that.

Naruto had gone through every emotion within his range. From blazing fury, to immense confusion, to fretful despair, and then finally to his own particular brand of exuberant elation. He asked Sakura if he could be in the wedding. Sakura had laughed with bright pink cheeks, and told him that they weren’t quite there yet. Naruto slipped straight back into his head-scratching confusion.

If anyone cared that Kakashi had once been her teacher, or that there was a fourteen-year age difference, they didn’t make it known. He thought, for the most part, people didn’t really care. At least, the people who mattered didn’t. Even Sakura’s civilian parents didn’t balk at the sight of him in his shinobi-glory, mask and all. They thought it was nice that they had found each other. Her mother’s opinion of him drastically improved when he revealed his face at the dinner table, much to Sakura’s chagrin. Kakashi thought it was funny.

They had their first real fight, and their first real make-up. They saw each other at their worst, and at their best. Sakura had seen him at his lowest, trembling in terror after a particularly horrible nightmare, in which he had woken up sweating and ready to kill. She had talked him down, despite how jarred she had been. She never knew he had nightmares like she did.

He came to know her body as well as he knew his own. She was his favourite instrument to play. He knew which strings to pluck to make her croon low and sweet in his ear, or cry high and breathless in prayer. He learned she liked to keep her room cold so she could sleep with hefty blankets. He learned she liked to be the big spoon when she was feeling grumpy.

She was ticklish, and she hated strawberry-scented anything. She liked to eat breakfast for dinner, and she preferred pancakes to waffles. She actually happened to really like seeing him in his mask, and she had a particular taste for pulling it down herself. She had a very specific way of kissing him that meant “go to the bedroom _now_.”

She loved him. She said it so casually the first time, like it wouldn’t change his entire world to hear her say those words. When he didn’t answer her, she had glanced up from her textbook to see what was wrong. He had just gaped at her in shock, jaw dropped behind his mask, and eyes glossy as his mind raced and reeled.

When she realized what she had said, she laughed and stood up from his couch, setting her textbook aside and crossing the room to wrap her arms around his waist. She pressed a kiss to his chin and smiled softly up at him.

“I love you,” she said again, as if that would help restart his heart. Then, she had kissed him in _that way_ , and they were on his bed while she told him again, and again, that she loved him.

He captured her littlest finger with his and pressed his lips to it softly.

“I love you, too,” he said as they lay on top of his sheets. She smiled down at him as she ran her fingers through his hair.

“I know. You say it in your sleep all the time.”

* * *

She still went on missions, now and again. Her duties at the hospital kept her busy, and there was no shortage of competent medics in the village anymore. Still, sometimes things called for a specific finesse, and while she was no longer in ANBU, S-Rank med-nin were hard to come by, and Sakura was the best.

Every time she left for a mission, the last thing she would do was kiss him goodbye, and when she came back, the first thing from her lips was never a word. It didn’t matter who was around. She would interrupt them, or offend them, or do whatever else she wanted, and he would let her. He was always so happy to have her back, even though she usually wasn’t gone for more than a week at a time. Those weeks always felt like a year to him.

One time, her team encountered a problem. She had sent her summons with the news. He was thankful to be Hokage on days like that, because it was his call to send backup, and when she’d returned, nearly depleted of chakra and dead on her feet, he was happy to have done so.

Another time, Katsuyu came to him with news that she’d be late returning to Konoha. There was no mention of complications or issues, so he couldn’t justify sending a squad after them as reinforcements. He had spent everyday waiting anxiously for her return wondering what had happened to hold up the mission. As the days ticked by, he grew more anxious and frustrated.

It was times like those that he resented being Hokage. As a jonin, he could have convinced someone to let him go after their squad. Now, he had a responsibility to the village to remain where he was.

She came back two weeks later than anticipated, looking furious as she stomped into his office and straight up to his desk, not even bothering to lower his mask before she planted her lips hard onto his. It had given the Kazekage quite a shock.

“Nice to see you again, Haruno-san,” Gaara said with a quiet amusement.

“My apologies for the intrusion,” she said with a bow of her head, before she headed out of his office again. Kakashi cleared his throat and tried to get back to the business at hand.

The next time she was late, he tried to keep his emotions in check. It was difficult, considering she hadn’t even sent her summons to let him know, as she always did. He couldn’t shake the feeling something was wrong. Still, he told himself he was being paranoid, and he continued on with his day-to-day tasks.

A week later, he was startled awake by the presence of someone at his door. He had it open before they’d even lifted their fist to knock.

“Haruno Sakura has just been brought back to the village.” _Brought back_. He was at the hospital long before the chunin who had been sent for him. Two nin wearing ANBU uniforms were stationed outside the critical care unit, one of them pacing, while the other leaned heavily against the wall, covered in blood and looking exhausted.

“Hokage-sama,” the one at the wall said, trying to stand straight in Kakashi’s presence but staggering under his own weight.

“Ichiya-san, tell me what happened,” he said to the man pacing before him.

“Masue got hit bad. We…I was going to leave him,” Ichiya said, looking down in guilt, “Haruno-san stepped in to save him.” Kakashi felt his heart fall to his stomach and his lungs constrict. Med-nin were not supposed to jump into the fray unnecessarily. Looking at Masue now, he could see grave wounds had been inflicted on him, and had since been healed.

“I tried to get her out—” Masue began, but Kakashi lifted a hand to stop him.

“It’s not your fault,” he said, clenching his jaw to keep from losing it. It wasn’t their fault. Sakura had made a call. She had made the decision to save her teammates. It was the same decision he would have made, but he couldn’t stand the thought of losing her. Kakashi turned to the nurse who had followed after him as he blazed through the hospital. “Help Masue-san get the medical attention he needs, please.” The nurse nodded and led Masue away.

“I-I’m sorry, Hokage-sama. I wouldn’t have been able to help Masue on my own, but then Haruno-san came out of nowhere…” Kakashi knew firsthand what a formidable fighter Sakura was. Truly fearsome, and a sight to behold. She could instill fear in just about anyone.

The door to the operating room opened and a civilian doctor stepped out to face him.

“Tsunade-sama is in there performing surgery,” he said. Kakashi was eased very little by that; it would haven taken dire circumstance to bring Tsunade to the hospital to perform this surgery herself. “Shizune-san is with her, Hokage-sama. They will do everything they can to save Sakura-san.” That did even less to ease his mind.

“What’s wrong?” he asked. The doctor looked hesitant to answer.

“One of her lungs was pierced; it looks like she was able to do the bulk of the healing on herself for that wound, but there are still some complications. The bones on the right side of her body have been shattered, and her spleen has ruptured,” he said with a sigh. “But the real issue is the spinal injury. There has been some leakage of her cerebrospinal fluid.”

Kakashi didn’t know what any of that meant in terms of her survival. It all sounded horrible, but this doctor wasn’t telling him _what it meant_. He could hear the distant beeping of whatever machines were in that room with her, as well and the murmurs of Tsunade and Shizune speaking with one another over Sakura’s body. He heard the doctor behind him protesting as he burst through the doors. Tsunade barely spared him a glance.

“Get out of my operating room, Hatake,” she said tensely, lacking her usual bite. Kakashi remained where he stood; staring at the body of the woman he loved in horror. She already looked dead.

“Is she—?”

“She’s alive. I’m not going to let her die that easily,” Tsunade said fiercely. “Now, _get out_.”

He wasn’t sure how many hours he waited outside those doors. The nurses came and went, new nurses came and went, and then the same ones were back again. He stayed where he was, sat outside those doors. Every minute Tsunade and Shizune remained in there was torture, but also made him hopeful. They were still fighting to save her, which meant there was still something to save.

What would he do if they came out with bad news? He dug the heels of his hands into his eyes and shook his head. That wouldn’t happen. Tsunade wouldn’t let that happen. He couldn’t lose her. Not _her_.

The door opened and all the oxygen was sucked out of the room. Tsunade looked exhausted, leaning on Shizune for support. Kakashi stared at her, waiting for what felt like an eternity.

“Is she—?”

“Alive,” Tsunade said, her eyes sharp and proud through her exhaustion. “And asking for you, the ungrateful brat.”

Kakashi swept past the two of them into the operating room. In hindsight, he realized he should have thanked Tsunade profusely, for not only saving Sakura’s life, but for saving his as well. He figured she would forgive him.

Sakura’s eyes were heavy-lidded and she had an oxygen tube attached to her nose, but that was hardly as disconcerting as the way her body lay limp on the hospital bed, her limbs not looking entirely correct in their positioning.

“You’re late,” he choked out as he knelt at her bedside, at the side of her body that hadn’t been mangled.

“Sorry,” she whispered, “better late than never.” He gritted his teeth and tried in vain to keep the heat that pooled behind his eyes from spilling over into tears. He ducked his head against her hand as the tears came. He felt her hand twitch weakly beneath him, and he lifted his head, worried he’d hurt her. Instead, he watched in awe as she held her pinky out for him. He took it in his without another thought.

Better late than never. He thought that ought to have been his life’s motto. He stayed by her bedside as she drifted in and out of consciousness, and only left the hospital when they threatened to admit him as a patient himself. He had only left for a few hours, to shower, eat a proper meal, and try to sleep in a bed, but the whole time he was away, all he could think about was getting back to her.

He even reviewed mission scrolls, and documents by her bedside. The Hokage didn’t get emergency leave, unfortunately. He told her as much when she called him a workaholic.

“That’s a shame, I was looking forward to a nice, long honeymoon,” she said with a small smile. Her eyes were closed; otherwise she would have seen the shocked look on his face. He’d long since accepted that she was it for him, that this was the life he wanted; a life with her. They had tossed endless quips about getting married at the beginning of their relationship, given the nature of how it began, but it had been awhile since either of them had joked about that.

He supposed, at some point, it had stopped being a joke and neither of them would broach the topic until it was time. It appeared that the time had come.

A few days after that, Sakura was released to home-care. She stayed in the Hokage residence, where he could work in close proximity, and where there were ANBU details at every turn. He couldn’t have pried Naruto from her side with a crowbar, not that he wanted to. For all the flack she gave him about being a workaholic, she was way worse.

He was pleased that the most she could get away with these days was sitting on that big couch with one of her massive textbooks, swathed in one of his sweaters, and drinking in the sunset. He stood awestruck in his doorway for a moment as he stared at her, thoughtfully considering the pages before her. With a sigh, she snapped the book closed and turned her eyes to him.

“I’ve been waiting for you,” she said, sounding a little annoyed as she slowly got up and moved toward him. She still had a bit of a limp, as all the bones on the right side of her body set and healed. They were most of the way there, but there were still problem areas.

“Better late than never,” he teased, wrapping his hands gently around her hips and leaning down to kiss her full lips. She hummed contentedly beneath him as she picked up his left hand and laced her fingers with his. She pulled away from his kiss to look down at their entwined fingers. She unraveled her hand from his meticulously, one finger at a time, tracing over his palm and then turning his hand over to examine the scars that covered his knuckles.

When she got to his little finger, she raised it to her lips, kissing it softly, and letting her lips linger on his skin. She blinked up at him slowly, her eyes glossed over and sparkling.

“Marry me,” she whispered, twisting the ring on her middle finger off. He watched as she pressed the warm metal to his pinky. “Marry me, Kakashi.” He kissed her, soft at first, then harder, as she pressed the ring down to the base of his finger.

He could feel her cheeks dampen as her tears fell, but he continued kissing her. She giggled into him, raising her hands to cup his face.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” she whispered against his lips. He didn’t bother gracing her with an answer; instead, he stooped down to scoop her gently into his arms and cradled her to his chest as he carried her to their bedroom. She laughed the entire way there, and he thought about the ring box, buried deep in the pockets of his robes.

* * *

“Hokage-sama!” the shop clerk stared at him in shock as he walked through the door. “Was there a problem with the ring?”

“Ah, as it turns out, it’s quite large,” Kakashi said with an embarrassed duck of his head. “I picked the wrong finger,” Kakashi said, lifting his hand to showcase the small gold ring Sakura has slipped onto his pinky. The shopkeeper’s eyes softened as he nodded in understanding.

“Not a problem, Hokage-sama. We can fix that.”

**Author's Note:**

> softness. pinky fingers. i just wanted A Little Thing that was Just for Them and it spiralled out of control and now they're getting married and i have feelings. i hope u also have feelings
> 
> tumblr: bl1ndbraavosi


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